Exile
by HopelessRomantic750
Summary: Legolas stumbles upon a strange Elf whose green eys hold a secret. Formerly called Arwe
1. Green Eyes

Disclaimer - Light comes on to reveal author digging through box of characters and places. "Hmmm, Legolas? Nope not mine; darn it! Mirkwood? Nope, not mine either. Thranduil? Nope he belongs to Tolkien too. throws LOTR related things in a box labeled Tolkien's _NOT_ Mine  Continues digging and pulls out Mithwe, Laslira, Esce, Rilwen, and Calenalda. "Oooh, MINE!"

Sticks all five in a padlocked box guarded by her demon cat "MINE!"

Middle Earth and all related icons, names, and such like belong to J.R.R Tolkien and New Line Cinemas. I stake no claim to them nor do I get any money for my writings.

Chapter one – Green Eyes

Legolas Thranduilion walked lightly through the forest. Soft green sunlight filtered through the thick leaves and the prince smiled with the pure joy of the greenwood in summertime. A song of the Elder days rose softly from his lips to hover in the warm air.

With a soft smile Legolas lifted his eyes to watch the birds flitting from branch to branch. Suddenly he yelped in surprise as his foot caught, tripping him. The unintentional sound was followed by quickly stifled laughter.

The prince found himself lying across the legs of a strange Elf. The younger being's leaf green eyes held the laughter that Legolas had heard as he fell. He scrambled to his feet and glared down at the stranger as he tried to regain some of his dignity.

"What exactly do you think you are doing on the ground like that? You are not in Lothlorien or Imladris; the greenwood isn't safe anymore. Do you care that you could have been killed or worse?"

"I was sleeping 'on the ground like that.' And as for the danger I have traveled in perilous places before. It seems to me that I was far more alert than you. That being the case you should stop lecturing me and go home where it's safe for dreamy eyed bird watchers."

"Dreamy eyed – you – you cat-faced son of a human!"

The stranger, who was now laughing in earnest, raised an eyebrow.

"Is that the best you could come up with? I think was the most pathetic insult I've ever heard."

"If you had been paying attention to those around you instead of yourself and how alert you are you would know that I am not to be taunted. I am a warrior of Greenwood the Great and shall be treated as such. Now on your feet and show some respect; for I am Legolas Thranduilion, prince of the Greenwood.

----------------------------------Legolas' PoV--------------------------------------

The unknown Elf jumped to his feet. All mirth had left his face and a nameless sorrow filled his bottomless green eyes. He bowed low, right hand over his heart.

"Forgive me your majesty. You are right; I ought to have held my tongue. If you wish to know my name is Mithwe."

There was sorrow in Mithwe's voice and I was sorry I'd been so harsh. He turned to leave, head down and eyes on the ground. I felt as though I should do something to try and make up for my unkind words so I called his name.

"Mithwe, wait! Please come stay in Lasgalen. There is a feast tonight in honor of the crown prince's return from Lothlorien. I am sure the Elves of Greenwood will welcome you."

"I would enjoy that. Thank you, your majesty."

We set off in the direction of Lasgalen, Mithwe maintaining a sad silence despite his proclamation of joy. It made me want more than anything to return the sparkling light to the bright green eyes that stared so grimly at the grass beneath our feet.

Two Hours Later

Mithwe remained silent as we came in sight of the gates. His shoulder-length red gold hair shone like fire in the sunlight. The gate guard was a pair of young Elves just out of training and both saluted stiffly as we passed. Not ten feet away sat half a dozen older soldiers seemingly in the midst of an animated conversation. But I knew they were alert for danger every minute.

Even five years ago they would not have been necessary; but the Greenwood was darkening. In the far south of our land orcs and other evil creatures roamed freely. And in the last few months they had been encroaching on our outlying communities; already ten Elves had disappeared. That was the reason for my anger at Mithwe's obvious unconcern for the danger.

As was passed into the palace proper Mithwe stopped walking. His face remained expressionless but his eyes reflected doubt. He stood thus for a moment then shook himself and walked on.

"I will take you to a guest room so you can lay down your things. Then you must meet my father. I am afraid you will have to wait until the feast to be introduced to my siblings; they are always very busy before things like this."

After dropping Mithwe's pack off at a guest room near my chambers we went to my father's apartments. He was adding the finishing touches to his when we walked in and smiled when he saw me.

I loved my father. He was tall and golden-haired with an air of strength about him. His eyes, sharp as a hawk's and green as jade, never failed to hold love when they beheld his children. Even Mithwe looked slightly more at ease. I think he had been expecting a much sterner Elf, one who looked more as though he carried the weight of gathering dark on his shoulders.

"Greetings my son; I was wondering when you'd return form your walk. Who is your friend?"

"Father, this is Mithwe of…" I trailed off and glanced at my companion. He'd never told me where he was from. He bowed to father, a gracious smile on his lips.

"I am Mithwe of Arda; a traveler, your majesty."

"Then greetings to you as well, Mithwe of Arda."

Just then a maid slipped her head in the door.

"Excuse me your majesties, my lord, the feast is nearly ready."

I smiled my most infectious smile at Mithwe who returned a tiny grin of his own. But the sparkle had yet to return to his eyes.

----------------------------Mithwe's PoV------------------------------------

I followed Legolas to the site of the banquet, feeling somewhat awkward in my borrowed clothes. Wood Elves in every shade of green, brown, and gold filled the glade near the palace. The adults held goblets of mead or wine and smiled indulgently at the Elflings running about their feet.

I recognized Calenalda immediately. He had the same tawny-gold hair and green eyes as his father. Beside him, laughing merrily, stood an Elf-maid whom Legolas introduced as his twin sister Laslira. The two of them stood and talked while I studied them.

Laslira was, without a doubt, the most beautiful Elf-maid I had ever seen. It made sense though. After all, Legolas was the best looking Elf I'd ever seen. And were it not for the fact that Laslira was obviously female they would have been impossible to tell apart. Both had hair like the summer sun and unbelievably blue eyes. High cheekbones under ivory skin gave them a look of noble beauty that was different from their father and brother's strong grace.

"Look at those two." Calenalda's voice in my ear startled me. "They look so guileless. But they're probably plotting the humiliation of some poor innocent."

I laughed.

"Why do they look so different from you and the king?"

"They look like mom; and they have her spirit too. She was always laughing. I even remember her sliding down the stairs when it was just our family. Dad met her because he walked under a rigged bucket of paint intended for someone else and she felt sorry for him. The twins love playing pranks; be careful."

Just then Legolas walked up.

"What are you telling Mithwe?" He turned to me. "Come my friend, we can not have Cal poisoning you with those naughty little prank stories he loves to tell so much. Oh," Legolas called back over his shoulder at his brother as he led me away. "Dad wants you, Cal."

When the feasting was ended the twins stood up and walked to the center of the ring of Elves. They waited a moment for everyone to quiet and began to sing a homecoming song. The notes that rose from their lips to hang in the moon-silvered air pulled me back through the years and into another glade surrounded by trees even older that Greenwood's.

Flashback-Flashback-Flashback-Flashback-Flashback-Flashback-Flashback

I smiled at Esce, my best friend, as she walked past. Her long hung loose to her ankles crowned by a circlet of her own bronze locks braided into flower-centered disks.

Esce grinned back as she and her dance partner stepped into place. On her other side Rilwen, copper hair swinging loose, stood in the arms of Esce's older brother. I laughed at the look she shot me before joining my own partner.

End-Flashback-End-Flashback-End-Flashback- End-Flashback-End-Flashback

I came out of my memories to the fell of a hand on my shoulder. Legolas was looking down at me with concern on his face. I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile and he seemed to relax somewhat, but his hand remained on my arm.

What had triggered that? I hadn't thought of my home in months. Maybe it was the song. The last time I had heard that song was at the festival I had been remembering. That banquet had been only two nights before the day I left home; and it had been in my honor. It no longer seemed odd to call others you majesty. But back then, that night, it would have. The Heir Apparent of –.

Legolas' worried voice cut into my thoughts.

"Mithwe are you well? You've been acting rather strangely tonight."

"Oh, yes, sorry your majesty. I'm fine. I was merely thinking."

"About what?"

"Umm, about –"

Just then Laslira bounded up, saving me from having to answer. She grabbed my hand.

"Come, Mith, dance with me!"

I laughed at her enthusiasm and nodded. Then, smiling, I led her over to where the others were getting ready to dance. Legolas sauntered up a few seconds later with a black-haired maid on his arm.

As the musicians began to play I forgot the fears from my past and worries of the present to lose myself in the rhythm. I remained lost in the only thing that could give me peace until the stars were growing dim and exhausted Elves staggered home to drop onto still-made beds.

Translations:

Thranduilion- Son of Thranduil Mithwe- Grey Heart Laslira- Leaf Song

Esce- Rustle of Leaves Calenalda- Green Tree


	2. Black Blood

Disclaimer-See chapter one

Chapter one-Black Blood

(Legolas' PoV)

Mithwe had been in Greenwood for nearly a week when father asked me to go on a scouting mission. I asked Mith to join me and he seemed quite easy about agreeing, though I thought I saw an emotion akin to fear flash in his eyes. But before I could be truly sure it vanished behind the ever-present shields that hid his soul from view.

The morning we were to leave I woke to the grey light of pre-dawn filtering through my window. After dressing I made some last minute preparations and said my farewells. I went to get Mithwe just as the sun was rising.

I knocked lightly on the door and it opened almost immediately. Mithwe smiled, a quirk of lips that didn't touch his eyes, and walked out. A quiver and bow decorated with golden vines hung over his shoulder.

As the Elf I thought of as my friend closed the door behind him I noticed, as though for the first time, his hair swinging loose. Had I chosen as my companion an un- blooded who had yet to earn warrior braids? Surely not; no Elf who was unsure of his abilities would sleep on the ground in the middle of an ever-darkening forest. But just to be certain I would have to find some way to test the extent of his capabilities and training.

We walked together into the stables where the warm, grassy smell of horses pulled me out of my thoughts. From down the row Gwaeel, my stallion, nickered a greeting. I went in to groom him as I always did before a ride. Without stopping the quick motions my hand made with the brush I spoke to Mithwe.

"Just down the aisle there are some horses that don't have partners. Let them smell you. One should consent to bear you for the journey."

Gwaeel tossed his white head, making his silver mane sting my face. What was that for? He loved being brushed. He again tossed his head toward the back of the stable and alarm rang clear across our mental connection. I could have smacked myself. But when I turned to warn Mithwe of the unmanageable filly I had to stop my jaw from dropping.

Mith was leading a young horse with a coat of palest gold up the passage. A tilted half-smile lifted one side of his mouth.

"What is her name?"

"She- she has none. No one else has been able to lay a hand on her. I think she is yours by virtue of mutual attraction."

Mithwe studied the filly for a long moment. They seemed to connect, like puzzle pieces that have found their proper place. Suddenly the horse threw her head up and down, tossing her dazzling gold mane high into the air. Mithwe turned away to look at me and for a single instant a hint of true joy eclipsed the sorrow in his eyes.

"Her name is Nimril."

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We rode through the silent trees at a walking pace. Since we were still close enough to the palace to be relatively safe I tried to engage Mithwe in conversation. He was quiet at first but seemed to gradually warm up; and within an hour we were talking like two old friends. We spoke of feasts and dances; of Men and Dwarves and the many other things which walked Middle Earth in those days.

After a time our discourse turned to the Elder days, when the Elves returned and of the great cities they made. Throughout the course of our dialogue I noticed that there were certain places Mithwe would not speak of. Instead he would change the subject; sorrow rising to the surface of his bottomless green eyes. Thus it was when I spoke of Fangorn or Gondolin; though he was very interested in all I had to tell of Elrond, Glorfindel, and the Imladris twins.

We halted for lunch when the sun was high in the sky. I had decided that after we ate I would challenge Mithwe to an archery contest. That way I could safely test his skills. When we halted for the night I would see how he did with a knife. I finished my food and turned to him.

"Mithwe-" He continued to stare blankly at the barely nibbled piece of bread in his slim hands. "- how good an archer are you?

"Good enough."

His tone was cold and said that was the end of the discussion. Archery was obviously another one of his subjects to avoid. But this could end up being a matter of life and death; and besides, I was unused to taking orders from those not member of my family or father's council. All Mirkwood royals are proud and somewhat high-strung and his brusque dismissal stung me.

"I need to know. This is important Mithwe. I don't care if you don't like it I will know how good you are with a bow. Perhaps we could have an archery contest."

However upset I had expected Mith to be after his obvious dislike of the subject I hadn't anticipated anything near the reaction I got.

Mithwe's head snapped up. The deep sorrow in his eyes was nearly hidden by the burning anger which suddenly filled them. When he spoke his voice cracked as though he was unsure of whether to cry or rage.

"I will not have an archery contest with you or anyone else, EVER!"

With those words he jumped to his feet and practically ran from the clearing.

(Mith's PoV)

I ran as though I could outrun the memories haunting my steps. Flashes of my past flickered through my mind like lightning in a storm.

-Esce laughing as we spun in a crazy whirling dance.-

-Rilwen sitting beside us and whispering comments about the youth's looks as we watched them fight.-

-Esce and I elbowing each other back and forth in class.-

-The three of us laughing madly until the small hours of the morning.-

These were the happy memories. The reflections of time spent in laughter and joy. Green leaves, blue skies and Rilwen's wild stories. It was not from them that I fled.

-Orcs pouring from the trees.-

-Esce fighting grimly as blood ran from a gash along her ribs.-

-Carcasses strewn across grass now black with blood.-

I was on my knees; face in my hands as though I could block the visions that were sure to follow.

-Esce's knife, abandoned on the ground.-

-The trampled trail through the woods that was marked with silvery blood.-

-The stricken face of Ellas as he heard the new I had of his daughter.-

-The shadows of the trees as they blew in the chill wind of a storm.-

-And the sound of my own footsteps echoing like the noise of pursuit as I ran from all that I had ever known.-

A heavy rustle from somewhere close startled me out of the dark memories. My hand unconsciously flew to the hilt of the knife that had once belonged to my best friend. I looked up, searching the forest around me and found myself staring into a pair of murderous yellow eyes!

(Legolas' PoV)

Mithwe returned a half hour after he ran out. He was breathing hard from the run and his red-rimmed eyes said clearly that he had been crying. In his right hand he carried a knife that was still wet with black blood. His face was pale and he was shaking like a leaf.

"Goblins… nearly two dozen… right behind me."

"Mithwe, pull yourself together. We can beat two dozen orcs. But what I can't do is look after you while in the midst of a battle. You need to calm down or get out of here."

I did not like being so harsh, especially when Mith was so upset already. But my words had the desired effect. The muscles in Mith's jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth and he remained pale, but anger covered the fear in his eyes. I could only hope that his hurt at the thought of an archery contest was not caused by shame at a lack of skill.

At that instant orcs came pouring into the clearing. Before I could fell the leader a grey-feathered arrow hit it squarely in the throat. Mith could obviously handle a bow quite well.

The next few creatures to appear fell beneath a deadly rain; then we were surrounded. I drew my knives and assumed a defensive position. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mithwe doing the same and knew that if his knife skills were anything close to his proficiency with I bow I didn't need to worry.

Five or so minutes later, during a brief lull in the fighting, I looked over my shoulder to make sure Mithwe was alright. He had a knife in each hand and seemed to be holding his own quite nicely. But his face was grey and evil memories filled his eyes. I watched for an instant longer as he slew a goblin, and then turned to deal with my own attackers.

I was just in time to parry the swipe of an orc blade headed for my neck. A quick turn of my wrist disarmed the creature and a backhanded slash assured it wouldn't be trouble ever again. The blows were coming thick and fast now; I had no more time to think of Mithwe. Blocking and slashing, I immersed myself in the age-old dance of battle.

After a time I realized with a twinge of alarm that the number of orcs wasn't lessening. My knife handles were slippery with the blood of the creatures I had slain yet there seemed to be more now than at the beginning. I whirled as a soft cry sounded behind me.

Mithwe was still fighting, but only with one hand. The other was pressed against his ribs where blood trickled through his fingers from a jagged cut.

Our enemies noticed Mith's handicap and closed in around him even as I fought to get to his side. I was almost there when a huge orc, probably the captain, pushed in front of the others. It held a scimitar in one hand and a chain in the other.

The creature came up from behind while Mith was busy with three others in front of him. I tried to yell but my voice was drowned out by the loud howls of the orcs. So I did the only thing I could.

I sheathed my knives and took my bow from where it hung across my back. In the eternal instant it took for the arrow to strike the goblin I threw the bow back over my shoulder and drew the long white knives at my waist but it was too late; and I knew it.

Cold steel sliced my shoulder, followed by a warm gush of blood. As fast as I could move wasn't swift enough. Even as I fought an orc kicked my legs out from beneath me. I went to my knees, still struggling desperately. It was no use.

(Mithwe's PoV)

An arrow flew past me and hit something at my back with a muffled thump. Just to the left and about six feet away I saw Legolas unsheathing his knives and knew already that he wouldn't make it. Struggling to reach him, I watched in horror as he went down beneath a pile of goblins.

(Legolas' PoV)

I was surprised when the orcs didn't just slit my throat. _Then again_, I thought as they tied my hands behind my back and forced me up to my knees,_ they did seem to enjoy taking Elves alive_. I only hoped Mith would escape.

The biggest orc in the group stood.

"Elf, put down yer weapons and surrender or yer friend dies."

Mithwe looked from me to the orc, white with horror. I shook my head and felt blood trickle down my neck. The goblin noticed.

"Don't listen to 'im boy. You wouldn't want us ta kill yer prince, would ya? Drop yer weapons!"

Mithwe looked at the creature and dropped his knives. Then he took off his bow and quiver and set them on the ground also. I watched as the goblins tied his hands behind his back and knocked him out. Then I fell into oblivion.

A/N The review button is there for a reason. Use it!


	3. AN

Hey Everyone,

Just wanted to let you know that I'm gonna be changing my pen name to HopelessRomantic. I decided that Arlira doesn't work since I write so much other stuff besides LOTR.

Thanks

Arlira (soon to be HopelessRomantic)


	4. Silver Tears

**Chapter Three-Silver Tears**

When I woke the sun was rising in the east and we were tied to a tree. As the light splashed across my closed eyelids I smiled ever so slightly. Even when all seems dark the sun still rises. The stars forever shine above the clouds.

A stirring beside me pulled me back to the present. Mithwe moaned softly, still not quite awake. Burning pain in my shoulder asserted itself but I ignored it as I looked my younger companion over.

Blood stained his tunic, trickling from a deep ragged gash running ribs to hip in his side. He also had a shallow scratch across on cheekbone and what looked like a broken finger. After assuring myself he wasn't going to die anytime soon I turned my attention to my own wounds.

They were minor. My shoulder hurt but there was no major damage done. Even the bump on my head, which throbbed, wasn't as bad as the one Mith had received. Whichever one of those creatures had knocked him out had been a little overzealous. I could only assume it was the reason I had woken first.

Mithwe stirred beside me and mumbled something I leaned in closer to hear.

"I'm sorry my friend. Forgive me please. This is my fault and there is nothing that can atone for it but your forgiveness would mean life to me."

He trailed off into a heartbroken please that was more of a moan than anything else. Tears ran down his face and his slim shoulders shook with silent sobs. I tried to bump him awake but we were tied too tightly for that. So I leaned over as far as possible and yelped in his ear. He jolted awake.

Mithwe's green eyes held confusion as he gazed around the tiny clearing. He seemed slightly dazed.

"Where am I?" His voice was soft, lost.

"You are in central Greenwood. We are prisoners."

Mith's brow furrowed as his dream drugged mind struggled to place me.

"Prince Legolas, forgive me"  
"My friend there is nothing to forgive. I can think of nothing you have done that you need ask forgiveness for."

"This is my fault. I should not have come. If not for me you would still be free. You ought to have taken one of your own people, rather than a failure whose very presence brings ill-luck."

What could I say? Mith sounded nearly as distraught as he had when caught in the dream. I could not understand. He had done all he could.

"Mith, you are _not_ ill-luck and you are certainly not a failure. I am the best archer in the Greenwood yet it was you, not I, who brought down the first orc. No one could have done more than you did; some things are fated."

"Yes, some things are fated. And I am fated to bring danger upon those I care about. Had I been paying more attention I would have noticed the orc behind me. You paid for my freedom with yours. And you are not the first to fall for my mistakes."

He must have seen the question in my face. When he spoke, his voice, though still soft enough to avoid detection by any but elvish ears, was brimming with emotion.

"Do you think after what you saw that I wear my hair down because I can't fight? I was a warrior in my home, known for my talent with the bow. But I still couldn't save my friend when she needed me most. I was too busy paying attention to what was in front of me to notice her danger. I thought nothing could happen without my knowing it. We were a team, one mind, two bodies.

"I do not think your friend would blame you."

"You are right. She would not blame me for anything. Not when things were normal at least. But perhaps she blamed me as she screamed. Surely someone must take fault for such pain. It was my mistake and that makes me the proper one on which to lay blame. And perhaps-" His startling green eyes met mine. "- Perhaps when you can no longer hold back cries of pain you too will say my name with anger."

Mith turned away. I called his name but he ignored me. Again, this time louder, I tried to get him to look at me. He didn't say anything but one of the orcs heard me. Our conversation until this point had been in whispers just loud enough for an elf to hear. I paid for catching their attention when a heavy boot connected with my ribs. The goblin grabbed my hair and tilted my head back to look into its face.

"You'd better be glad we ain't allowed ta do any harm ta ya, Elf brat. But there ain't no restriction on yer friend. So youse best keep yer mouth shut.

The creature released me and clumped back to its companions. I sucked in a breath of air that wasn't contaminated with the thing's stench. For Mithwe's sake I'd be silent; but only until I thought of words that would convince him that neither I, nor his friend, blamed him.

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As soon as the sun began westering the orcs moved on again. Neither Mith nor I had slept and his wounds had been left untended. Thankfully he had not bled much as the cut in his side had closed over early in the day. It was becoming painfully apparent, though, that the orcs had come for me. They wanted me alive.

We ran all night and the next day dawned cloudy and dim. The orcs kept on, anxious to make use of the extra time. I worried about Mith as his stumbles grew more frequent. We continued on as night fell again.

By morning I was nearly ready to collapse; only pride kept me standing. My mouth and throat were on fire from lack of water and my empty stomach was complaining. Mith swayed on his feet.

Our captors tied us to a thick tree off to one side. The place they had chosen to camp was oppressive, with thick tree cover that hid the sunlight. There was a dark thicket on one side and I felt sure something would come out of it at any second, and not necessarily something good for our health.

One of the orcs walked up to us. In its paws it held a water skin. I knew he wouldn't just give us a drink, there was no way it'd be that easy. I was right.

"Thirsty, Elf scum?" It laughed, an unpleasant sound like gravel grating against steel. "I know ya are. If youse want a drink all ya gotta do is ask."

I glared at the hideous creature. There was no way I would ever lower myself to ask it for anything. Judging by the sneering grimace I took to be a smile, it knew this as well as I did. It turned to Mithwe.

"How bout' you, elfling?"

"Amin feuya ten' lle, ulund."

The thing grinned, showing its fangs, and hit him. The blow was hard enough to whip Mith's head to the side. When he turned back blood ran from his temple where it had connected with the tree trunk.

"Nadorhuan!"

The orc hissed and stumped off, taking a long drink of water as if did so.

"Are you okay?"

Mithwe smiled grimly.

"Better than I was."

He turned away.

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"I don't see why we can't play wit da prince."

"Cuz booze brain, orders is orders. No playin' wit da elfy prince."

I had been close to sleep when the words caught my interest. My father had insisted I have at least a rudimentary grasp of the language the orcs in Greenwood used. Though I'd hated learning it I'd blessed Ada for his stubbornness on several occasions. But the next words made me wish I'd forgotten my lessons.

"da other one ain't part of our orders. Why not sport wit 'im?"

There were mutters of agreement from the other orcs around the fire.

"That's all well an' good, but 'e's too weak. The maggot'd die before we was finished."

"Ah, we wouldn't 'urt 'im too bad. Just a little fun?"

I cringed. The orc captain was right. Mith was weak from dehydration and injury, not to mention half-starved. If they went too far they could easily kill him. And I was afraid that with the proper excuse he would surrender his soul to Mandos and be done with it.

The argument apparently settled, several of the creatures got up. They were nearly to our tree when the first arrow hit.


End file.
